=The Island of Manhattan.=—­As we approach the northern limit of Manhattan we feel that in the preservation of the beautiful name “Manhattan,” distinctive of New York’s chief borough, Irving’s dream has been happily realized.  The meaning of this Indian word has been the subject of much discussion.  It is, however, simply the name of a tribe.  As the old historian De Laet says, “On the east side, on the main land dwell the Manhattoes,” and again from the “Documentary History of New York.”  “It is so called from the people which inhabited the main land on the east side of the river.”

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  Pleasant it is to lie amid the grass,
    Under these shady locusts half the day,
    Watching the ships reflected in the Bay,
  Topmast and shroud, as in a wizard’s glass.

  Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

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[Illustration:  INDIAN HEAD, PALISADES]

The word Manhattan signifies also it is said:  “The People of the Islands,” and it was evidently used by the Indians as a generic term designating the inhabitants of the island itself, and also of Long Island and the Neversink.  This is in accordance with the testimony of Van der Donck.  With Irving we all recognize the music and poetry of the name and are proud that our river of beauty is so happily heralded.

=Spuyten Duyvil Creek.=—­Above Washington Heights, on the east bank, the Spuyten Duyvil meets the Hudson.  This stream is the northern boundary of New York Island, and a short distance east of the Hudson bears the name of Harlem River.  Its course is southeast and joins the East River at Randall’s Island, just above Hell Gate.  It is a curious fact that this modest stream should be bounded by such suggestive appellations as Hell Gate and Spuyten Duyvil.  This is the first point of special legendary interest to one journeying up the Hudson and it takes its name according to the veracious Knickerbocker, from the following incident:  It seems that the famous Antony Van Corlear was despatched one evening with an important message up the Hudson.  When he arrived at this creek the wind was high, the elements were in an uproar, and no boatman at hand.  “For a short time,” it is said, “he vapored like an impatient ghost upon the brink, and then, bethinking himself of the urgency of his errand, took a hearty embrace of his stone bottle, swore most valorously that he would swim across en spijt en Duyvil (in spite of the Devil), and daringly plunged into the stream.  Scarce had he buffeted half way over when he was observed to struggle violently, as if battling with the spirit of the waters.  Instinctively he put his trumpet to his mouth, and giving a vehement blast—­sank forever to the bottom.”

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  O legends full of life and health,
    That live when records fail and die,
  Ye are the Hudson’s richest wealth,
    The frondage of her history!

  Wallace Bruce.